


Can't Get You Out of My Head

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Humor, Missing Will, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:24:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal's living it up in Florence: chillin', killin'...and Will-in', apparently.  And he's handling it.  Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The goal of this fic is to be short, sweet, and funny-- don't expect a ton of 'meat' in the plot, so to speak. I just thought it would be a fun thing to write and, hopefully, a fun thing to read! 
> 
> I don't know how many chapters will be posted or how often I'll have them up, but I'm going to try to keep a relatively steady stream of chapters...'try' being the key word!

Hannibal Lecter is a man who enjoys routine.

Every morning, he wakes up at 6:00, takes a shower, and proceeds to ready himself for the day.  By 6:30, he’s straightening his necktie and by 6:33 at the _absolute latest_ , he’s reaching into the refrigerator for eggs, milk, and whatever else he might need to start breakfast.

By the time Bedelia enters the dining room, there is an artfully composed plate waiting at her usual spot, along with the daily paper (which Hannibal has already read) and a steaming hot cup of coffee. 

They spend their morning meal in comfortable silence—an occasional remark about the weather, a discussion of daily plans, when dinner will be served—all in all, it’s quite a convincing mockery of married life, just as Hannibal no doubt intended.

“I thought I might visit _La Specola_ today,” Hannibal says one Saturday morning, lifting a forkful of egg to his lips, “Their collection of anatomical waxes is supposed to be one of the most extensive in the world.”

“Are you asking for my permission?”  Bedelia stirs her coffee idly with a small silver spoon, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable.    

“I’m asking for your company.”

“I see.  I’m curious as to why, seeing as though you won’t gain anything by my presence.”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to request his wife’s presence?”

“No, it is not,” Bedelia takes a sip of her coffee— _ah, perfect_ —and reaches for the crystal bowl of strawberry preserves to her left, “but, since we are not, in fact, married, I have no obligation to accompany you anywhere.”

“Is there a reason you’re so resentful of me this morning?”

“Hannibal, I resent you _every_ morning,” She takes up her knife and catches a glimpse of her reflection in the spotless silver of the blade.  Her face remains impassive, but her eyes, oh, her eyes burn.  Excellent.  “Or perhaps you just haven’t taken notice.”

“I notice a great deal about you Bedelia,” Hannibal replies, “In fact, I believe I notice more about you than you care to notice, yourself.”

The knife dips that dips into the preserves perhaps has a bit too much force behind it, because before she can stop it from happening, there is a bright red stain on the perfectly-pressed white linen tablecloth. 

“There’s no reason to bring my table linens into this discussion, Bedelia.”

“While I apologize for my clumsiness, I resent the notion that you believe me to be so petty as to spill jam to win an argument.”

“…You…you…” Hannibal looks more taken-aback than Bedelia has ever seen him, knuckles white as they grip the edge of the table and eyes strugglingnot to cry, “Spill…jam…?”

“Yes, Hannibal,” Bedelia sighs, “I accidentally spilled jam on your tablecloth.  Spill jam.”

“Spill jam…spill…Will…jam…Graham…”  Hannibal slaps a hand over his mouth as tears begin falling, “Oh my God, _Will Graham!”_

He leaves the table in a flurry of sobs and tweed, nearly knocking over a carafe of coffee in his carelessness.  Bedelia shurgs.

“I suppose I’ll see you at dinner, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal Lecter isn’t the kind of man to sit down in front of the television for entertainment, but sometimes…sometimes, he needs the banality of a technicolor screen.

It’s half-past three in the morning and he can’t sleep—again.  He would chock it up to jet lag and a new time zone if he hadn’t been settled in Florence for more in a month.

He hasn’t bothered to turn on any lights.  The light from the TV will suffice, and perhaps he’ll manage to doze off on the sofa—hopefully Bedelia doesn’t see.  She’d never let him live it down.

There’s a documentary on about humpback whales—by far the only thing even remotely palatable—and he allows himself to slouch as he watches the gargantuan creatures float across dark seas of blue.  It’s calming, especially since the narrator has a particularly soothing voice. 

In no time, Hannibal’s eyes are closed and he feels himself drifting into a light sleep.  Perhaps his memory palace needs an ocean for humpback whales…

_“…the male was 5 minutes into his song, which could last up to twenty minutes total…”_

He could put it out back, at the bottom of the cliff that supports the anterior wall of the north wing.

“… _using his large pectoral fins, he moved slowly and gracefully…”_

It would be nice to hear the waves breaking against the rocks. 

_“…the krill swam away from him, not wanting to become dinner…”_

Ah, the krill swam away. 

Krill…swam?

_Oh my God._

Hannibal’s eyes shoot open, all thoughts of waves and marine life forgotten.

“What did you just say to me?”  He asks the television, but of course, the television doesn’t respond beyond switching to a commercial for laundry detergent. 

“Damn you,” he whispers, turning on his side to face _away_ from the screen.  He falls into a fitful sleep, and if he dreams of brown curls and bad aftershave, well, that’s his business.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you guys enjoy reading as much as I've enjoyed writing! Stay tuned for more! 
> 
> And, if you want to come chill with me on tumblr, my url is mean-cannibals.tumblr.com!


End file.
